


savior verse

by dandelionslute



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alcohol, Angst, Explicit Language, F/M, M/M, Recreational Drug Use, no beta we die like men, this IS a jaskier x yennefer fic, youve been warned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-03-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 18,259
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22766059
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dandelionslute/pseuds/dandelionslute
Summary: Yennefer and Jaskier have a difficult relationship after Geralt pushes them away from him and further towards eachother.
Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Jaskier/Geralt PAST, Yennefer/Geralt PAST
Comments: 219
Kudos: 372





	1. five times

**Author's Note:**

> cw: non descriptive drug use  
> cw: alcohol

The first time Yennefer sees Jaskier after Geralt tore both of them to pieces, he’s alone, in Novigrad, in a tavern known as The Nowhere Inn. It’s not exactly the most renowned or sophisticated establishment, certainly not where either Yennefer nor Jaskier would usually find themselves, but the barkeep asks little questions and mostly everybody keeps to themselves.

Jaskier sees Yennefer before she sees him, though, and mutters a dread-filled _oh fuck_ to himself. He so desperately prays for her to sit, drink, and leave without noticing him tucked away in the corner, but who is he kidding. Yennefer is clever, observant, and a mage. She turns in his direction, almost immediately, as if on instinct, and Jaskier loses any hope that they would not cross paths today.

“Jaskier,” she says coldly as she approaches, her usual floor length black dress and fur cuffed robe replaced with a more practical, black tunic covered by a warm coat, black fitted pants with pads of leather, flat boots that stopped halfway up her calf, and of course, a belt wrapped around her waist with the handle of a small but sharp dagger resting alongside her hip. Jaskier wonders if she is trying to blend in, look less mage-like, but with that curled black hair and those purple eyes - _never._

“Of course,” Jaskier almost laughs, shaking his head, “Of course I would degrade myself by drinking in a place like this and have,” he makes a waving movement of his hands across her body, “ _you_ of all people show up.”

“Believe me, I’m less than thrilled,” she retorts, but sits beside him none the less. “Why are you in Novigrad?”

“Why are _you_?” he snaps back, drinking from his mug.

“I’ve been.. travelling,” she says quietly, resting her hands on the table in front of them.

“Mhmm, mhmm, well great, save the personal visit and just send me a letter next time,” Jaskier gulps down the rest of his beer and picks up his lute. “Let’s never do this,” he motions between the two of them with his hand, “again.”

Yennefer clicks her tongue and watches him go. _Idiot_.

-

The second time they meet, a few weeks after the first, Yennefer’s back in Novigrad to cash in on the misfortune of people who are willing to pay anything for a cure, a remedy, a spell, an amulet.

She operates out of a small, abandoned house that belonged to a mage once, driven from her home many years ago when witch hunters drove mages from the city, if they didn’t kill them first. _Seems fitting._

She’s inbetween clients, tidying her altar and preparing herbs when a familiar voice carries past the shattered window.

“I haven’t stolen anything, does it _look_ like I’m the sort of person who needs to steal?”

_Jaskier._

“The maiden says you stole a neck chain and pendant from her stall,” a rough voice calls.

“The _maiden_ is surely mistaken,” Jaskier quips, dryly. Yennefer moves to watch from the front door.

“I’ll have you know I’m quite well regarded in these parts,” Jaskier continues. “Ask any of the professors up at Oxenfurt - they’ll tell you. Me, steal? It’s simply laughable.”

Yennefer cocks her brow.

“…Right,” the guard gives Jaskier a look. “You’re free to go this time, but I hear anyone say you’ve been stealing again, well, we’ll just have to have a little chat, you and I.”

The guard walks away and Jaskier makes an obscene gesture behind his back, turns quickly, and finds Yennefer leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed. “Stealing?” she raises her eyebrows.

“I didn’t steal anything. That _fair maiden_ shop keeper is just mad I wouldn’t stay for breakfast after a night of dessert, if you understand me.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes . “I understand.”

“Why are you back, Yennefer?”

“I’m working,” she says, calmy, indicating to the horrible old house.

“You couldn’t have gone, oh I don’t know, _anywhere_ else?” Jaskier glares.

“I didn’t know you would still be here,” Yennefer doesn’t break her eyes away from his. “You think I’m here for you? Why?”

“To ruin my life, _again._ ”

“And what do you mean by that?”

Jaskier scoffs and straightens his doublet, looks her dead in the eyes. “It’s your fault that I’m alone.”

“We’re all alone, bard. You’re not special.”

Jaskier almost growls. “He took his misdirected anger out on me. That was your fault! If it weren’t for you, I’d still be gallivanting the continent with him. Having whimsical and magical adventures. Not here, in bloody Novigrad, being stalked by you.”

Yennefer purses her lips. “Go home, Jaskier, before you embarass yourself.”

Jaskier’s cheeks glow red and his upper lip twitches into a snarl. “You took my home from me,” he seethes, but he’s quiet. Sad. He shakes his head, takes a deep breath, and turns sharply on his heels. Without another word, he walks away.

Yennefer catches the glint of silver slip from his sleeve. He doesn’t seem to notice, though. Out of the dust, she picks up a silver chain with a pendant, carved in the shape of a wolf’s head. The price ticket still attached. Her eyes follow Jaskier as he disappears into the bustling square.

-

The third time they meet, they make eye contact in Hierarch Square and walk in opposite directions.

-

The fourth time they meet, at the Kingfisher Inn, they don’t really meet.

Yennefer sees Jaskier at a table of young men and women, drinking and laughing, mugs clashing in cheers and ale spilling. Jaskier looks happy enough, pawing some girls arm as he laughs and making stupid movements with his hands as he tells a story Yennefer can’t hear.

She orders a drink, sits at the bar, and watches. Watches as Jaskier’s hand dips beneath the table and comes back up a second later to swipe across his gum. _Idiot._

She drinks, trying not to watch, but she can’t make herself leave. And it’s not long before the girl he’d been laughing with takes him by the hand, and giggling, they disappear around a corner into the hall.

Yennefer goes home.

-

The fifth time they meet, Yennefer is returning from the Elector’s Square, just stepping off the edge of St Gregory’s bridge, when the door to Passiflora swings open and a tall, burly man throws another out by the shirt.

_Fuck._

“Sober up or fuck off,” the bouncer shouts as he pushes Jaskier into the street, where he trips and lands on his hands and knees. He’s down to his wrinkled chemise and he spits blood into the dirt.

“Well,” Yennefer calls out, “you’re keeping yourself busy I see.”

Jaskier whips his head up to meet her eyes and his are bloodshot. “I didn’t peg you for a customer of Passiflora,” he grins at her, wickedly, still on his hands and knees.

“And the other night, at Kingfisher Inn?” she asks, ignoring his comment. “Did your lack of sobriety have you thrown out of there, too?”

Jaskier’s eyes widen. “You _were_ there, I knew it, I - I saw your hair, I smelt.. You really are stalking me, huh?”

“It’s a small city Jaskier.”

“Not that small,” he purses his lips.

“And did you have to pay for her too?” Yennefer cocks her head, “or was it just the Fisstech you paid for?”

“Don’t lecture me, _Yennefer_. And if I didn’t know you better I’d think you were _jealous_.” There’s something feral in his eyes and Yennefer puts it down to an over indulgence in wine.

She takes a few steps closer to him until he has to strain his neck to look up at her. “I always thought _you_ were the jealous one,” she smirks, and pats him on the head.

Jaskier recoils and pushes his hands off the ground, kneeling. He tries to think of something clever to say, and comes up with absolutely nothing.

Yennefer sighs and walks past him, her thigh shoving past his shoulder and knocking him off balance. He huffs and climbs to his feet, brushing the dust off his hands and clothes.

Yennefer turns to him. “Are you coming?”

“With you? No thanks,” he snorts.

“Come, let me fix your lip at least,” she says, and Jaskier’s finger instinctively goes to his mouth to feel the split there. He winces.

They stare at eachother.

Jaskier caves.

“Fine.”


	2. we aren’t friends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: mention of drug use  
> cw: alcohol

“What time is it?” Jaskier wakes, groggy and hot, tangled in bed sheets. 

“It’s early. Sleep, Jaskier.”

“I thought you were just going to fix my lip.”

“I did fix your lip.”

“And render me unconscious in the process? Some mage you are.”

Yennefer turns from the doorway and stares at him, daggers in her eyes daring to cut him into pieces.

“No, I put a spell on you so you would sleep until being awoken by _true love’s first kiss,_ ” she mocks.

Jaskier rolls his eyes and pulls the sheets away from his legs. “And who kissed me then, huh, if I’m awake?”

“A very unlucky individual...” she says under her breath, smirk playing on her lips. “You passed out, Jaskier. Now go back to sleep. It’s the middle of the night.”

Jaskier rolls over and tucks his hand under his head, sighing loudly. “Mmm.”

-

“Well this place is, uhh... quaint,” Jaskier looks around the decrepit house, wooden beams hanging from the ceiling, windows shattered and floorboards creaking, a thick layer of dust settled on practically everything. Sunlight spills through and lights up the dust hanging in the air, cobwebs in the corners.

”It probably is, compared to the places you’ve been spending your nights,” Yennefer shoots back, running her finger through dust and wiping it on her thigh. 

Jaskier, try as he might hide it, blushes. 

”I’ll be off then,” he clears his throat and pulls his shoes on, straightening his shirt and flattening his hair. “I think I left my doublet back at Passiflora.”

”And your dignity”, Yennefer says and there’s only a hint of teasing in her voice.

Jaskier frowns. “I don’t think you should be judging anybody.”

”You’ve mistaken me. My intention was not to judge..merely to make comment on how you’ve been parading yourself around all of Novigrad with what seems like very little respect for yourself. And perhaps others, at times.”

Yennefer throws the silver chain wolf pendant at Jaskier, who catches it awkwardly and turns deep red.

”So you were stealing,” she says slowly, standing to move a little closer to him. “Why?”

Jaskier swallows hard and Yennefer sees his pulse quicken under thin skin on his neck. He stammers and shoved the pendant into his pocket, pushes the door open so hard it nearly falls off what little of the hinges are left, and leaves.

Yennefer watches him go. “A _thank you_ would have been nice!”

-

Yennefer doesn’t exactly go looking for Jaskier, but she has to admit she’s bored, and there’s little else to do. She finds him quickly, at the Kingfisher Inn, and buys herself a goblet of wine before pushing a chair to his table and sitting down.   
  
He groans. “Do I have to leave this town to be free of you?”

Yennefer takes a sip. “Perhaps. I was thinking of doing some renovations.. staying a while.”

Jaskier nods. “I’ll be leaving then,” he says, moving to stand up but she reaches out and grabs his wrist firmly.

”Have a drink with me,” she more demands than asks. “If we have to be stuck in this town together, let’s at least be.. civil.”

”Oh. OH! Civil, that’s what you want?” Jaskier’s loud, and people stare. “It’s your faul-” he hisses, but drops his voice, “your fault that Geralt drove me away, ditched me, deserted me and now I find myself being constantly reminded of it every time I see you, which happens to be almost every damn day since you won’t seem to _leave_ me _alone_.”

He sits back down when Yennefer tugs on his arm and she leans in closer.

”Geralt.. pushed me away too.”

”You deserved it,” Jaskier snaps, sounding meaner than he was expecting it to. He doesn’t care.

Yennefer blinks. “All I want... ever wanted.. was to be a mother. He laughed in my face. Told me I’d be horrible at being a mother. Ridiculed my attempts to-”

”Attempts? You mean almost killing us all by _trapping a djinn inside your body_ ,” Jaskier says incredulously.

”I had to try.” Yennefer is quiet. She looks down at her wine and shakes her head. “Geralt isn’t used to people like us.”

”Us? What could you and I possibly have in common to be considered _us_?”

”Us,” Yennefer repeats, looking from her wine to Jaskier and her purple eyes swirl with sadness. “People who love him.”

Jaskier lips his licks and looks away. “I don’t _love_ Geralt.”

Yennefer scoffs and finishes her wine, signalling the barmaid to bring two more. She turns back to Jaskier and she smiles, softly. “The only person you’re lying to is yourself.”

The barmaid sets two more drinks down and Yennefer pushes one forward to Jaskier. “So tell me, Jaskier. Why Novigrad?”

Jaskier says nothing for a few moments and then takes a drink of wine, and sighs.

”I thought.. it would feel like home. I studied for many years here, at the academy. I thought maybe I could come back, work as a professor perhaps. Poetry, or music,” he smiles sadly, taking another drink.

”And instead you’ve been drinking, whoring, using drugs and stealing,” Yennefer replies with a teasing tone and her eyebrows raised.

Jaskier can’t help but laugh. His heart is broken and he hates that he’s sat here talking to _fucking Yennefer_ of all people, but she’s right. What the fuck has he been doing? Maybe he thought if he waited long enough.. just enough time passed..

”Do you think he’ll come back for us?” Jaskier asks, and the way his voice cracks makes Yennefer’s stomach dive.

”I don’t know.”


	3. alone together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: alcohol

And it goes like this for a while -

They bump into each other in the street and nod hello (or don’t nod), talk (or don’t talk), play nice (or play nasty).

They pretend they don’t walk by each other too many times in a day.

They usually _intentionally_ meet at the Kingfisher Inn, and if they both start to show up every seventh day, at the same time, and sit at the same table, and drink sweet red wine until Yennefer flicks her hair around and Jaskier’s cheeks flush pink, neither of them acknowledges it.

They spend weeks, maybe months, not-together in Novigrad. Always knowing the other is there, but always acting as if they live separate lives, like there isn’t a reason neither of them want to leave.

They talk, mostly about Geralt. Jaskier’s mostly bitter, Yennefer’s mostly full of regret. Jaskier still blames Yennefer, and Yennefer blames everyone but Jaskier.

They argue. Yennefer sees Jaskier self destructing, and Jaskier wants her to butt out of it. Yennefer sees him duck out of Passiflora at three strikes past midnight, most nights, his hair messy and eyes wild. Yennefer doesn’t go to that side of town to check on him - no. She’s in the area anyway, or so she tells herself.

-

“No, no, it _is_ your fault.”

And how many times have they had _this_ conversation?

But Jaskier is drunk and upset and he jabs his finger into Yennefer’s chest.

”Jaskier, you can’t blame me for the actions of another. He chose to leave, both of us.”

”You’re the reason he left _me_ ,” he cries, and storms away from her.

She doesn’t follow.

-

Yennefer is wrapped up in fur and silk. She sits by the fireplace of her newly appointed house, perfectly decorated with mostly black, but hints of gold. No longer do the ceiling beams hang and the front door squeak on its hinges. Warmth radiates throughout and golden lamps cast soft shadows on the walls. She sits cross legged in her plush, black armchair and listens to the rain crash down outside.

-

He shows up hours later.

-

“I didn’t know where else to go,” he mutters, absolutely saturated by the storm outside. He flicks his hair and the water flies off like a shaking dog. Yennefer scowls.

She conjures up a fresh set of warm clothes and points him to the bathroom, where she has already filled a bath with steaming water and lilac.

Jaskier bathes and Yennefer sits, back by the fire, drinking a warm camomile tea. She contemplates her life. _Why am I still here, in Novigrad? I could take my work anywhere. The only thing I’m doing here is upsetting Jaskier. And he doesn’t deserve that._

Jaskier emerges from the bathroom, changed and dry but shivering. Yennefer stands and offers him a huge fur robe which he takes with a slight nod.

She clears her throat. “I’m leaving Novigrad.”

Jaskier’s eyes grow wide.

”You can have my house, it’s yours. I’m moving on.”

”You can’t-” Jaskier splutters quickly, eyes pleading.

Yennefer’s eyebrows furrow. “I’m doing this for you. I can see what my being here is doing to you. It’s time I leave.”

”No,” Jaskier shakes his head, like he’s just heard the most horrible news. “No you can’t go.”

”Why not? I thought you wanted this. Me to leave?”

Jaskier closes his eyes, swallowing his pride. Heartbeat thrumming in his ears.

”Please, don’t leave me. Not you too.”

“Jaskier.... this is not doing you any good. Me being here. It’s time we both move forward.”

Jaskier’s eyes are glistening and his lip trembles.

Has Yennefer ever seen him like this? Maybe once.

”I can’t be here without you,” he whispers, barely there. He hangs his head. “Please, stay. Please don’t leave me too. You’re all I have.”

Yennefer sighs.

“Let’s talk about this tomorrow Jaskier, it’s late. You can have the bed tonight - go on. I bet you could use a good nights sleep in a comfortable bed. Don’t worry, I won’t disappear during the night. Sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Jaskier can’t deny it - he’s exhausted, and the moment he sits on the bed he melts into the warmth and softness of it, dropping his body into the covers and drifting off to sleep within minutes.

Yennefer sighs.


	4. two weeks ago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> short & sweet

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

Today, they search market stalls for a particular herb Yennefer needs for a spell.

”Can’t you just.. make one appear?” Jaskier waves his hand around like he’s casting a spell and Yennefer laughs.

”No. Not this one.”

-

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

Today, they buy Jaskier a new pair of boots from the market with the money he’s made from performing at night.

They’re black, sturdy and practical. They remind Jaskier of Geralt.

-

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

Today, they eat lunch at the The Spearhead Inn, an inn Jaskier was not welcome at some many years ago, but this seems long forgotten by most. 

Jaskier teases Yennefer about the way she holds a knife and fork.

”I was taught manners,” she says firmly. Jaskier laughs with his mouth full.

-

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

Today, she makes them a cup of warm green tea as the sun sets and they sit by the fire. Jaskier strums his lute and Yennefer wonders how her life ever got here.

-

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

Tonight, she listens to him bathe while she mixes herbs by her altar.

She listens to him sing Fishmongers Daughter for the hundreth time.

She listens to him cry.

-

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

Tonight, she offers him warm robes as the cold night sets in and they drink whiskey by the fire. They tell old stories to one another and Yennefer pretends not to notice that Jaskier’s moving closer to her.

-

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

Tomorrow, she’ll wake up with him in her bed.


	5. oh

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> chapter four, part two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter four from jaskier’s POV

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

Jaskier felt his heart free fall like diving from a waterfall into a crystal clear pool of utter despair.

“Please don’t leave me too.”

Yennefer just sighed.

-

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

Three days later, Jaskier disappeared and let himself be bought by a strong, tall man outside Passiflora.

He eventually uses the money to buy new boots. They’re black, sturdy and practical.

They remind Jaskier of Geralt.

-

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

One week later, Jaskier noticed how soft Yennefer’s hands were when she passed him fresh towels for his bath.

_Maybe they won’t rip my heart apart, as hard._

He imagines how soft they would feel on his skin.

-

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

Today, Yennefer makes them a cup of warm green tea as the sun sets and they sit by the fire.

Jaskier strums his lute and wonders how his life ever got here.

-

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

Tonight, he turns the bath taps on but sits on the floor and sings instead.

He sings Fishmongers Daughter for the hundreth time.

It’s his funniest song.

He cries anyway.

-

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

Tonight, she offers him warm robes as the cold night sets in and they drink whiskey by the fire.

They tell old stories to one another and Jaskier pretends that he’s not moving closer to her.

He’s not even sure why he is.

-

Two weeks ago, Yennefer told Jaskier she was leaving Novigrad.

Tomorrow, he wakes up in her bed.

Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just wanted to play with the idea of chapter four as seen by jaskier, i hope you guys enjoy it!


	6. oh no

“How do you do it?”

Yennefer pulls her eyes away from the flickering flames and looks at Jaskier.

He asks again. “How do you do it?”

”Do what?” she asks.

”Act so... okay,” Jaskier tilts his head, “Act like you aren’t upset all the time. Are you upset all the time? If you are, you don’t seem it. You go to market, you see your clients.. you make me tea. You don’t cry. I cry all the time.”

Yennefer looks away. “I’ve lived for many, many decades, Jaskier. And all I’ve ever known has been destruction, heartache and chaos. Why should this be any different? My own fath... mother’s husband sold me for four marks. He didn’t want me. I started my life unloved and unwanted. Why should that change?”

It’s not the answer Jaskier expects. He sits, silently. His fingers play strings idly. “You don’t miss him?”

”Of course I miss him,” she quickly replies. “But I will not live the rest of my life longing for a man who couldn’t understand me.”

”He did understand you,” Jaskier says. “He didn’t know why you were so fixated on having a baby. But he understood you, probably more than most.”

Yennefer swallows.

”You told him.. you left him. You always say he left you, but he wanted you to stay. He wanted you to stay, and not me. You were the one who pushed him away.”

Yennefer huffs. “You can’t possibly understand, Jaskier.”

”I understand perfectly fine.”

”No,” she shook her head, “you don’t. You know your love for him was real. Mine was.. unsure. He made a wish.”

”Is that really such a bad thing?”

”He took my choice from me,” she bites, eyes darkening. “Like everybody else has.”  
  
Jaskier stares into the fire. “Could you make me forget?”

Yennefer looks to him quickly. “What?”

”Could you make me forget. Him? Everything?”

Yennefer shakes her head. “No, Jaskier. Too much of your life is wrapped up in him. That kind of magic.. it would ruin your mind.”

”It’s already ruined,” he sighs and swirls his mug of tea around.

Yennefer reaches her hand out and places it on his. He looks up, surprised.

”It doesn’t have to be forever,” she smiles.

-

Yennefer goes to bed and Jaskier sits with his back against the end, playing soft chords and humming.

”Don’t disappear,” she says, before pulling covers up over her body.

”I won’t.”

-

_She dreams of a forest in which she walks, surrounded by trees and the sounds of animals calling, a stream trickling in the distance, twigs snapping beneath her feet. In her hands sits a small, blue bird. She holds it too tight and it doesn’t fly away._

_-_

Yennefer wakes up to the sound of light rain on the roof.

She blinks slowly, returning to consciousness and feels weight in the bed that isn’t usually there.

She turns to the side and is met with Jaskier, lying on his stomach with both arms tucked under his pillow. He looks peaceful, asleep. His eyes flutter beneath eyelids and his brow isn’t sharp like it often is, his mouth relaxed instead of sad.   
  
He’s clothed, at least.

She pushes fallen hair from his face and he doesn’t move.

Yennefer sits up and rubs her eyes. She takes her cloak from the rack beside the bed and wraps it around her shoulders. The rain brings a cool crispness to the air, and with a flick of her finger she sets the fireplace wood alight.

-

_He dreams of falling into purple fire._

-

Jaskier groans. He lays still, with his eyes closed, for a few moments, coming to the realisation that this is in fact another day he has to live through.

He hears gentle clanging and shuffling and opens one eye, squinting against the light shining through the window.

Yennefer moves quietly about the kitchen. She’s not usually quiet. Is she trying not to wake him? _Maybe she doesn’t want to deal with another day of your melancholy company_ , he thinks.

She turns to him.   
  
“I made coffee,” she says and points to the pot on the stove.

Jaskier notices her eyes as if for the first time. Purple. Fierce, passionate and angry red, mixed with calm, contemplative and painful blue. Purple like the sweetest grapes and the most deadly berries. Purple like fresh violets blooming in spring and the leaves about to fall in autumn. His chest feels tight.

”Thanks,” is all he can manage, and he sits up, pushing thick blankets and fur off him. At least he’s clothed.

”I have to go out, but please, stay. I won’t be long. I’ll bring back food.”

Jaskier nods. All he can hear is “ _I’m leaving without you_.”

”Jaskier,” she scowls, as if she can sense this. “I’ll be back.”

He waves her away, watching her hair dance against her shoulders as she closes the door behind her.

_Oh no._


	7. her

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: alcohol

Jaskier spends the next few weeks noticing things.

Like -

the way Yennefer always hangs fresh sage above the fireplace and her fingers look so delicate as she strings them up

the way she wraps them in twine to make smudge sticks and Jaskier wants her to wrap him up like that

_shit_

the way she makes ~~their~~ her bed each morning, fluffing up the fur and putting silk pillows back in place, gently flattening the sheets and her hands drag across them so, so smoothly

the way she makes coffee each morning, and each morning, it’s somehow better than the last

the way she counts her coins after a session and mouths the currency to herself, her lips silently moving

the way she brushes her hair, and he forever finds black strands in all his clothes

the way she bangs her fists on the front door after she casts a spell for someone who gives less coin than promised

_he wants to be the door, sometimes_

the way she always passes him his camomile tea first, and then pours her own

the way she cooks and says _come and smell this_ and she doesn’t move away when he leans in and his head is right against her chest

the way she sits beside him on ~~their~~ her long, cushioned chesterfield, and even with enough space for three, her feet always seem to stretch out to touch his thighs

the way men flirt with her at market

and the way he feels _sick_

and then _angry_

the way her eyes drift off to stare at nowhere and they glisten and glaze, and he wants to hold her hand and say _i know_

the way her lips are wet with red wine when she pulls the goblet from her mouth at kingfisher inn

_no_

the way his palms sweat when she emerges from her morning bath, and even though she’s fully clothed, he knows that it wasn’t long ago that she was not

_fuck_

the way his heart quickens as they walk through Hierarch Square and their shoulders brush

_god damn it no_

the way his head spins when she comes home and her hair is tousled 

_it’s windy outside, that’s all_

the way he smells her in his dreams

_this isn’t good_

the way he feels her in his dreams

_why are you doing this_

the way they fight

_yes_

the way he wants to scream at her, still

_that’s better_

and the way he can’t, because that’s not them anymore

_shit_

-

It’s been the same story his entire life. Meet someone. Love someone. Get fucked over by someone.

Why did Jaskier give his heart away so freely, so often?

Why did he rip it out of his chest, bloody, screaming, and say “take this I don’t need it” to anyone who looked at him twice?

He’s alone, sitting on a stool outside ~~their~~ Yennefer’s house, drinking something herbal that she said would help calm his shaky hands that had been stopping him plucking late night melodies for the both of them.

The shaky hands came from watching her head lull against the wall, neck exposed and her hair falling down in curls along her cheeks, as they both drank wine and laughed and sang made up songs about Yennefer’s more difficult clients.

He laughs. Out loud. Sitting alone on the stool in front of ~~their~~ her house, laughing. What the fuck is he doing?

How did being stuck with Yennefer in Novigrad end up here? With her making enough coin to buy fresh food from the market, with them cooking stews and soups together, with him playing her songs and they drink wine from the bottle and they barely ever talk about Geralt anymore.

Jaskier swallows.

Was this wrong?

Why did she stay? Why was she here, doing this, with _him_? Was it some fucked up way that she could stay close to Geralt, feel still somehow attached. Slum it with Jaskier to feel like she hadn’t completely lost Geralt?   
  
And why was he here? Was he doing the same? Was cooking and shopping and sleeping beside her enough to pretend he hadn’t lost Geralt? Like somehow, if Yennefer was still there, he was still there?

But he wasn’t.

And it wasn’t Geralt’s hands he watched wrap around goblets and mugs, wishing it were his wrists instead.

And it wasn’t Geralt’s mouth he couldn’t stop staring at when Yennefer told him about her day.

And it wasn’t Geralt’s back who he woke up curled into, most mornings, face tucked into black hair not white.

And it wasn’t Geralt’s neck, thrown back in laughter, that made his hands shake and his skin prickle.

Because it wasn’t Geralt anymore.

It was her.

 _Fuck_.


	8. lightning in a bottle

Yennefer is.... complicated.

She knows it.

While she may come across as cool, composed - maybe even apathetic - chaos storms within her soul and it’s almost all consuming just to focus on not exploding in a rage of fire and thorns as each moment passes. It’s like living on the edge of a tornado, and one little sway might send her hurdling into unstoppable madness. It’s keeping everything inside, barely acknowledging emotions as they come and go, because if she lets one out, she might let them all out. All the pain, anger, bitterness, sadness. All the longing for a life she never had - parents who loved her, a family of her own, children. All the desire to be loved, wanted. Important to someone, once more. All the disappointment, and hope.

It was easier to seal herself shut with a lid, trap them inside, much like a djinn. Except she couldn’t grant wishes, and she could never be free.

-

She’s not even sure why she says it. She sees Jaskier’s face fall when she does.

”It’s not very good, is it?”

Jaskier stops playing. Yennefer can see his heart shatter through his eyes. He pretends it’s okay.

”I’m having a creative block,” he retorts, playing a single string, loudly, with an awful twanging sound. Yennefer sees him smirk as she winces away from the sound of it.

”I can see that,” she replies, turning away from him. “Must you make me suffer through it with you?”

Jaskier leaves the lute on the ground and stands, brushing himself off. “Come on now. What’s got your... robe.. in a twist?”

Yennefer rolls her eyes at his attempt of a joke.

She ignores him but he steps closer to her, arms dropping to his sides, soft. “What’s the matter?”

She huffs.

”Come onnnnn,” he says quietly, coming to stop beside her and leaning against the wall. “Tell me.”

”Nothing’s the matter,” she replies, but the sharpness of her words tells a different story.

Jaskier scoffs and his eyes slowly scan across her face. “Mhmm, okay, sure.”

She closes her eyes. She wants to tell him to fuck off, maybe even portal him away to some snowy land where she doesn’t have to deal with him anymore. And she wants to turn to him, whisper, _everything’s wrong_ , and cry. But she can do none of these things. Her body, mind, won’t let her. Instead she stews, all these things brewing beneath the surface and she’s one more word from Jaskier away to screaming a glass shattering scream and unleashing everything.

A gentle hand finds hers. 

”You aren’t alone anymore, Yen.”

That nickname, from his mouth, felt... wrong. And yet she can’t help but turn to him and look into light blue eyes, and for a moment she understands what the sand must feel when a wave creeps up and pulls the grains back to sea. The firm, held together expanse of sand unravelling in the pull of the tide and she falls into a thousand pieces, lost in the blue.

His hand is warm where it wraps around her fingers and instead of the usual prickling, tingling, pure and utter chaos she feels rippling beneath her skin, she feels an odd sense of calm, like the blue sky appearing after a thundering storm. Or maybe, just the eye of a hurricane. Fleeting, with darkness and terror sure to follow again.

And in that moment, like she’d never quite realised before, she takes note of how Jaskier stands a few inches taller than her, and it makes her feel small, for the first time in a long time. And she’s not quite sure if she’s ready for that.

-

Things had been a little... tense. 

Jaskier had only been trying to help, to comfort her, to let her know she could talk to him. Let her know that she could un-bottle her insides and dump them all over him. Instead, she’d seemed offended, disgusted. Shaking his hand off hers and storming into the washroom. Jaskier heard the taps turn on and sighed in defeat.

He thinks to leave, to pack up his lute and clothes and go far away. But instead he does this -

he takes rosemary and bay leaves from Yennefer’s herb collection;

he crushes garlic with her mortar and pestle;

he cuts onion, potato, carrots and pumpkin;

he grinds rock salt and peppercorns;

he lights the fireplace and heats oil in a cast iron pot;

and he tries to show Yennefer that he cares.

-

Things between them are difficult for the next few weeks.

Jaskier tries to show Yennefer she can trust him, and it seems to push her further away.

He cooks for her more often, and one night she snaps - “ _I can take care of myself, you know._ ”

”I know,” he replies, smiling as she sits down to eat with him nonetheless.

He buys her the softest, lavender coloured towel he can find, at the most fine textile store in Hierarch square.

”I have towels,” she says flatly, but Jaskier sees her carry it to her bath anyway, running her fingers across it.

He wakes up early one morning and sits silently, wrapping dried sage into thick bundles. His fingers aren’t used to the movements and he’s a little rough with it, a little clumsy. He doesn’t even notice Yennefer awake and stand beside him.

He waits for her to tell him he’s doing it all wrong, just leave it to her.

Instead, she sits and takes a bundle of sage and string in her own hand. “I’ll show you.”

He lands a regular performing job at The Golden Sturgeon and uses his first pay to buy brand new silk sheets, deep purple with gold trim.

”Why waste your money on such a luxury?” Yennefer asks when he brings them home, but she can’t deny that the colour is magnificent and her fingertips cry as they dance across them.

”I thought they’d look good on our bed.”

And there it is.

It hangs between them.

 _Our_.

Bed.

Our bed.

Jaskier stammers. “The bed, the. On the bed.” He clears his throat. “The colour reminded me of you, too.”

_Not helping._

Yennefer swallows and passes them back to him. Her eyes spark, dangerously. Jaskier wants to be the bottle that catches the lightning.

”Shall we put them on?”


	9. i like your coffee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: unintentional violence/causing pain

It happens quickly.

Jaskier says _our bed,_ and Yennefer tucks the new sheets into the corner and then drags him down on top of them.

Her hands grab and push his coat off his shoulders; they’re moving too fast and Jaskier wants to slow her down but he’s just about lost the ability to do anything, mind racing, catching up to this moment. He shrugs his arms out of the sleeves and it falls on the ground with a sound that echoes _no going back._

Her lips find his and it’s too rough, too desperate, and maybe this is what she needs. Jaskier’s stomach turns as he thinks _it’s not you, you’re not special_ , but he’s dizzy and intoxicated by the smell of her hair in his face and he bites back, matching her eager kisses.

And Yennefer’s hands are like snakes and they slither beneath his chemise and Jaskier’s surprised at how cool they feel, even now, when everything else feels too warm, too much. She digs fingernails into his shoulders and he winces.

Yennefer makes a sound in her throat and she recognises it as her mind trying to force a _no_ from within, hands trying to push him away but they dig in deeper instead. _You’re losing control, you’re losing control._ A battle in her head between the part of her who was always told to remain in control, and the part of her that wants to spill her chaos everywhere.

She pushes him backwards and crawls over him on all fours, and his hands come to rest on her hips as she shoves his trousers down. She buries her face in his neck as she slides down on him, biting his skin, and this is okay. Because if she’s the one on top, she has control, and if she’s the one biting him, she has control. And if she holds his arms down and she digs her nails into his skin and she uses her magic to tighten his throat just a little, she has control.

And Jaskier’s just looking at her with huge, blue eyes and he’s stuck somewhere between incredibly confused, incredibly horny and totally in love. _And that’s the problem_ , she thinks, _because Jaskier loves everybody._ _It’s not you, you’re not special_ , and it makes her clench her jaw. She fucks him harder and he gapes and shudders and groans beneath her, breath turning ragged, and it isn’t long before she’s following suite, _you’re losing control you’re losing control_ , and as she comes with a sharp cry she hears him shout out in pain, but she’s too busy shaking and falling and collapsing onto him.

She settles her breathing and lifts her head and he looks so beautiful, but his teeth are bared and he’s wincing in pain and she feels it, the heat beneath her fingers, wrapped around his arms. She pulls them away and he’s burnt there, in finger marks around his wrists and she stares a little too long before jumping off the bed and moving quickly for a cold compress.

”I’m sorry, I’m so- I didn’t mean that. Any of it,” she says quickly as she wraps cold cloth around his wrists and his heart stops.

”Any of it?” he asks, out of breath.

”Jaskier... I-”

”It’s fine, it only hurts a little,” he says, and he means his wrists, because his heart hurts a-fucking-lot.

”I’m so sorry,” she repeats, pressing firmly. “It’s my magic.. it’s why I can’t lose control. It’s why everything has to stay buried.”

Jaskier meets her eyes and she gets swallowed by the ocean all over again. “You can lose control around me.”

She scoffs. “Did you not see what I just did to you?”

”Oh I’m very aware,” he says, raising his eyebrows, teasing her. His voice lowers. “I can take it.”

She shakes her head. “It’s unpredictable.”

”I like that about you,” he says all too quickly.

She studies him, his eyes locked on hers and his mouth is parted just so, still bringing his breath back to normal, his hair messed and clinging, damp with sweat to his face. There’s no fear, no hesitation, no regret. Just Jaskier. Adoring and accepting Jaskier.  
  
“Why are you here?” Yennefer asks, eyes narrowing, accusing tone in her voice.

”Umm, here?” he asks, pointing to the bed below him, smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

She raises an eyebrow. “ _Here_.”

They stare at each other and a thousand unspoken words travel through the air between them. Jaskier tips his head. “I like your coffee.”

Yennefer can’t help but laugh.

-

They tiptoe around each other for the next few days, like they don’t know what each others lips feel like, what each other’s skin tastes like. Like Jaskier doesn’t have her fingertips etched into his skin.

He wraps himself around her in the early morning as he wakes, and she scampers out of bed. He tries to touch her hand and she doesn’t let it linger long. He picks her a violet and it dies by the window.

It’s like they’ve gone backwards, except they haven’t.

_Because Jaskier’s very good at noticing things._

Like -

the way she lets their eyes meet more often and she stays there, purple burning into blue

the way she licks her lips after drinking warm wine when she knows he’s watching

the way she leaves the washroom door open, just enough, when taking her baths

the way she livens up the fire when she notices him shivering

the way she stands closer to him

the way she touches his arm before leaving to run errands

the way she touches him again when she gets back

and the way she brings the violet back to life.


	10. you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: alcohol

“I can get rid of them, if you’d like.”

Jaskier hears the words, but he doesn’t really _hear_ them. He’s too wrapped up in the task at hand, on his hands and knees in their small front garden, covering tiny seeds with fresh soil in the dug out garden bed he’s been working all week on. He drops a few seeds into each small hole and gently pushes the soil back in, humming to himself as the _finally_ warm sun bears down on his back.

Yennefer tips her head as he continues along the garden bed, seemingly unaware of her still standing there, waiting for a response. Jaskier’s halfway through digging out a new little hole when a green seedling sprouts out of the garden and blooms into a beautiful purple flower before his eyes. He makes an unapprecative _humpf_ sound and turns around.

“Do you have to ruin my fun?”

“Why wait for the flowers to grow? I could turn this sad old soil bed into a beautiful garden of violets and daisies and pansies, if you’d like.”

Jaskier shakes his head. “That’s not the point.”

“Why not?”

“Don’t you understand? There is beauty in nurture. In caring for these tiny little seeds and watching them bloom into magnificent flowers, all because you took the time to love them so.”

Yennefer looks uncomfortable and shrugs her shoulders, dismissively. “Did you hear what I said?”

“That you hate gardening?”

“No.” _Idiot._ “Before that. Your scars.. I could make them disappear.”

Jaskier looks down at his wrists and the healing finger burns that wrap around them like the tentacles of a kraken around a doomed ship. He touches the ones of his left wrist lightly and smiles sweetly. “No. I quite like them.”

“You like them? Scars disfiguring your _perfect_ skin,” she teases, knowing how much pride Jaskier has for his appearance.

“They remind me..” he says quietly, looking up at her. “I don’t want them to go away,” he says quite directly, and although he says they, he means you. I don’t want _you_ to go away.

She nods slowly. “Well, if you ever want-”

“I don’t,” he almost snaps, looking back to the garden. “And leave my garden alone. Keep your witchy hands out of it.”

She rolls her eyes and heads to the market.

-

It’s sometime around noon and Jaskier decides to visit Kingfisher Inn for some lunch that very quickly turns into him making friends with a rather handsome, brown haired elf, who seems not short of coin in the way he buys them ale after ale after ale.

“So, tell me, Jaskier,” the elf drawls, drinking from his mug and picking meat off the chicken bones in front of him. “This woman.. is she the reason for these marks on your wrists?”

Jaskier blushes and grabs at them with each hand. “Yes. I mean, it was an accident. It’s fine. She’s a mage, you see, and um, I guess things got a little heated.”

The elf smirks. “Quite literally, I see.”

Jaskier grins and drinks. His head feels warm and only a little dizzy, and it’s nice to have someone to talk to who doesn’t seem to be inexplicably at war with him 50% of the time.

“So, a mage?”

Jaskier sighs. “Yes. I met her through Geralt of - a witcher - we travelled for many years together. He was by far the most… he was a good friend. And then he left, both of us,” Jaskier licks his lips, wondering if he’s said too much, but the elf seems unbothered. “He left and we both ended up here,” he gestures around them, “in Novigrad. I mean, I hated her. Couldn’t stand the woman. Thought she was a complete and utter psychopath - still do, sometimes.”

This gets a laugh from the elf and Jaskier feels pleased with himself at the joke.

“But we became.. friends? I’m not even sure that’s the right word.” Jaskier pauses, thinking. He looks the elf in the eyes. “We were all the other had. Even if we hated each other. Either one of us could have left… could have easily moved on to another town, away from one another.”

The elf tips his mug at Jaskier. “But you didn’t.”

Jaskier nods. “No. We stayed. And suddenly we were _trying_ to bump into eachother. Spending more time together.. I wasn’t dealing very well when she found me and even though I was awful to her, she helped me. Or tried to. She let me stay when I had nowhere else to go. Helped me stay… somewhat sober. And I guess I stayed one night and… never left.”

The elf made motion for more drinks as he finished the last of his and gave Jaskier a sympathetic look. “Women. Mysterious and magical creatures, they are. The things they do to us mere men, eh?”

Jaskier makes a noise in agreeance and sighs. “Silvrial, let me ask you something. I’ve only known you a mere hour-”

“It’s been three hours.”

“Good gods, how the time flies. Well, a mere three hours then. But you seem a wise man. Tell me…. how do I know if she feels the same? Half the time, she seems intent on hurting my feelings, and the other half, well-” he raises his wrists and smiles wickedly. “But I feel like I can never get below the surface. She’s always putting up a great big wall and little Jaskier just can’t climb it. But god,” he sighs, resting his chin in his palm, “how I want to.”

Silvrial drinks his ale and claps Jaskier on the shoulder. “Now that, my friend, is one answer I don’t have.”

-

It’s been three goddamn hours and and Yennefer can only guess where Jaskier is, so it’s no surprise when she walks through the door of Kingfisher Inn and immediately spies him across the room. He’s sat at a table with a tall, dark haired, pointy featured man who’s leaning in close and clapping Jaskier on the shoulder.

Of course, _of course_ , he would be here, trying to cozy up to whoever worked up enough courage to sit with him and feed him empty words about his pretty face and silky hair. Yennefer fumes as the pair of them chat, clearly tipsy, giggling like children. Anger swells inside of her and she sees red before the sound of wood tearing apart fills the room.

-

Jaskier’s laughing at a rather obscene joke from Silvrial when a huge, splintering noise fills his ears. He covers his head and shouts as the mug in front of him bursts, sending wood and beer flying through the air in all directions.

The pub grows quiet and he looks up to see Silvrial picking a stray piece of wood from his hair, and over his shoulder in the doorway, Yennefer. Breathing heavy, shoulders shaking, fingers trembling as they stretch out towards them.

“Fuck,” he says in shock, under his breath. Silvrial turns around almost lazily and looks back at Jaskier with his eyebrow cocked.

“The mage?”

Jaskier grits his teeth. “The mage.”

-

“What the fuck was that all about?” Jaskier asks, and its mostly surprise because he’s not really sure he should be angry. Except for the fact that she could have blinded him, or worse, damaged his throat and rendered him incapable of singing.

“Typical Jaskier,” she huffs, storming ahead of him. “He disappears for three hours and I find him chatting up some _elf_ in _our_ pub.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware _we_ had a pub seeing as you don’t seem to want to tangle our lives together any more than they already are!”

“And what does that mean?” she asks, spinning in the alley to look at him. He stops abruptly, almost tripping on his own feet.

“Oh, you know. We might share a _house_ , and a _bed_ , but that’s it. You push me away every time we get too close, when things get too _real_. You don’t want anything more from me. Well except maybe this,” he says harshly, thrusting his scarring wrists out at her, and she recoils. “But that’s fine, because that’s all anyone ever wants from Jaskier.”

“That’s not all I want,” she hisses.

“It bloody well feels like it,” Jaskier crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You go on about control this, control that. You can’t feel anything because you’ll burn down a town or something. Bollocks!” his words are slightly slurred but he continues. “Lose control. Lose it with me,” he steps closer, arms unfurling, “Lose it and burn scars across the rest of my body. Burn them into my heart because I don’t care, I don’t care if the marks are there forever because it means _you_ were there,” he steps in front of her and looks down at her with lidded eyes, “Just tell me. Tell me I’m not crazy for feeling this. Tell me you feel it too. _Somewhere_ , you feel it.”

Yennefer can feel his breath on her lips and it tastes like warm beer and rosemary, and she closes her eyes. She opens her hand and from it, a seed sprouts and blooms into a sweet, yellow dandelion.

He stills for a moment as he watches the petals open. “Why are _you_ here?” he asks her, reflecting her own question back. His eyes study hers and she doesn’t flinch when he tips her chin up with a single finger, eyes drifting down to her lips and back up.

_God, she wanted him. All of him._

She offers him the flower in her palm and her entire body feels electric. “You.”


	11. are you with me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is porn  
> this is just straight up porn  
> okay there's also important character stuff  
> but don't say i didn't warn you about the porn

_Jaskier folds her fingers back into her palm, closing a fist around the dandelion and trapping it forever._

-

She'd finally done it. Swallowed her pride and admitted to Jaskier that he, _them_ , meant something to her. More than something. _Everything_.

And Jaskier had kissed her like he never had before - like his lips were a drowning sailor and hers were the only lifeboat in sight. It was desperate, sure, but not in that messy, uncoordinated, frantic fumbling she'd experienced before. No, this was desperate like if he didn't kiss her right then, right there, the moment may have ceased to exist. Like if he didn't tangle his hands in her hair at the base of her neck, and kiss her like the only breath his lungs could survive on was hers, he might lose her forever.

And Yennefer - _oh Yennefer_ \- felt as though his fingers on her nape were clever quill nibs, writing on her skin the tale of every great love story ever told. And she was but willing parchment.

-

To put it politely, the next few weeks of Yennefer's relationship with Jaskier was.. physical.

-

Jaskier had taken a liking to burying his face in her neck and his fingers between her thighs, and she finally understood how he made those lute strings sing so sweetly.

And the first time he makes her come like that, with two fingers in her cunt and his thumb pressed into her clit, she burns a hole right through the new purple sheets.

But Yennefer still struggles with having the upper hand, and more often than not, she pushes him around to suit herself and he complies so sweetly.

Like the time she uses her magic to buckle his knees, making him drop to the ground and push her skirt up high to put his lips to her, and he stares at her doe-eyed until he comes in his trousers, blushing furiously. 

Or the time he crawls across the floor to her one night after sipping sweet wine by the fire, with heavy eyes and a smirk in the corner of his mouth, pushing her back into the wall and crowding up between her legs, and she doesn't let him kiss her while they fuck.

And the countless times she asserts her power over him, by holding his arms or his jaw or his throat in her grasp, looking at him the way a wolf might intimidate a deer, a silent _you're mine and you know it and i'll always be the one who wins_ , which he seems to enjoy if the way his eyes half close and his tongue darts out to wet his lips is any indication.

-

"You know, you don't always have to be so, ahh - ow! Commandeering," Jaskier breaths one evening, as she pulls his chemise over his head a little too rough, button catching on his cheek and pinching the skin. He shakes his hair loose as she throws the undershirt to the floor and looks at him as if he'd just spoken in another language. "Please, don't get me wrong," and the sly smirk he shoots her should be punishable by the law, she thinks, "this is great - fantastic, even. But.. you don't always have to be so.. domineering."

"Domineering? You mean to call me arrogant?" she huffs, and he immediately shakes his head.

"No no - no. That's not.. I just mean you don't always have to jump on me like I'm the first meal you've had in weeks."

Yennefer's eyes dart across his face and she wants to be offended, but his face is so soft. Eyes so gentle, mouth relaxed and kiss-bitten red.

"I know you have this thing with control," he continues, murmuring and pressing kisses along her collarbone. "But it's okay, you know. We can just.. go slow. You don't have to protect yourself from me." He can feel her practically recoil, her body seemingly turning cold, inside if not outside. He brings his eyes up to meet hers and brushes soft fingers against her cheek bone. "Let me show you."

Jaskier can practically hear her protesting but she still moves her mouth with his as he kisses her, slow but deep, tracing his fingers across the naked skin of her back. He brushes her hair across one shoulder and brings one hand to gently grasp the back of her neck, cradling her there, while his other moves to pinch her nipples between his fingers, just hard enough that she can't help the small whine that sounds in her throat.

He smiles against her lips and with a hand against her back, slowly lays her down against the pillows, kissing her still. He breaks away and stands quickly to shrug off the rest of his clothes and climb back over her, hands flat on the bed against her sides and knees gently pushing, encouraging her legs open. 

Yennefer needn't speak the words for Jaskier to sense how vulnerable this makes her feel - to not be the one leading this dance.

He peppers kisses down her belly and stops above her cunt, warm breath making her wriggle just slightly at the teasing sensation. Jaskier places his hands on her thighs - and _god had his hands always been so big -_ and kisses her right there between her legs, his tongue working in slow circles and flat licks until she moans and pulls away a little. He raises his head and looking her dead in the eye asks, "You trust me?"

And she does. _She really does._

She nods and his hands wrap around her thighs tighter, drawing them in, burying his face back there and making _quite frankly_ obscene groans as he sucks her clit into his mouth, and this is definitely not the first time he's done this but she doesn't want to think about that right now. Her mind spirals with thoughts of _god this feels so fucking good_ and _this feels wrong, i need to own this_ and _how can this be real, how can jaskier be here with me with that goddamn tongue and those goddamn blue eyes looking up and me, he can't want this, he can't mean this, i'm just a way to pass the time_ when suddenly -

"Hey," Jaskier mutters, fingers digging into her thigh, "Are you with me?"

Her mind focuses and he's looking up at her from between her legs, and the way his lips shine with wetness makes her body tense and shiver.

"You seemed a million miles away," he adds, pushing to his hands and knees and crawling his body over hers. His eyes pierce hers. "Are you okay?"

Yennefer swallows because _how can he even be real?_

"I'm fine," she says half-heartedly, looking away, but Jaskier hears it in her voice immediately.

"Hmm," he says gently, ducking down to playfully bite her throat. "It's just us here," he says against her ear, "you can drop the wall and let me in. I won't hurt you."

 _Everybody else has._ _But Jaskier... would he? Could he?_

"Can I keep going?" he interrupts her thoughts, pressing his hips down into hers and she can feel how hard he is, _for her, all for her._

"You wouldn't dare stop now," she replies, light tone in her voice and when he looks back at her she's grinning in that way that makes him want to eat her alive.

She opens her legs a little wider and he presses himself to her still wet cunt and slowly pushes inside, dropping his head into her neck and groaning as he slides all the way in. Her breath hitches and she winds her legs around his and drags him in closer and all her thoughts melt away when he bites, _hard_ , into her neck. And she _likes_ it. She feels, for a moment, like prey. Helpless, powerless.

The feeling swells between her thighs and the way her hips move must tell Jaskier all he needs to know, because with one spread palm he holds both of her wrists and wraps his fingers around them tight. Instincts cause her to shift a little but the feeling only grows, and although every part of her tells her this is _not_ okay, she moans. For a brief moment, her control shatters into pieces around her and Jaskier shows her what it means to surrender. To him and to herself.

They move together in silence except for gasps and groans and the occasional creak of the bed. Jaskier's breath is harsh, uneven, and when he moves to pull out, she keeps him close saying "we don't have to worry", and he looks like he's just discovered all the stars in the night sky for the first time and comes while deep inside her. She falls apart too, climax ripping through her with a loud cry, and when she opens her eyes, Jaskier's still there, and nothing is burnt.


	12. an unexpected journey

Jaskier's relationship with Yennefer was going.. great.

Every morning they woke up tangled in each other's arms. They ate bread and fruits and drank coffee for breakfast. Jaskier worked on his garden and played music some nights; she still used her magic to help people who came from near and far to be treated by the great Yennefer of Vengerberg. They had settled into routine, of asking the other about their day; sharing kisses between domestic errands; pottering around in silence, and sitting fireside at night until they crawled into bed for an evening of sex and sleep. Waking up to do it all over again the next day.

Jaskier's feet itched.

-

"What?"

Jaskier snaps from his daydream and looks slowly at her.

"What?" she repeats, staring him down.

"Umm.. nothing? I don't know? Did I do something?" he asks, because he's genuinely confused and he's been lost in thought for who knows how long.

"No," she says, standing up from the chair opposite him and moving to stand behind him. She puts her hands on his shoulders and the groan he makes when she squeezes them sends a playful shiver down her spine. "You're a million miles away," she continues, massaging his neck and leaning in close to his ear, "and your thoughts are everywhere."

"Hey," he says loudly, pulling away and turning his neck to look at her with a frown. "You said you wouldn't do that."

She smiles. "It's a joke."

Jaskier grumbles and turns to face in front of him again, but the way he bounces his shoulders up and down tells her she isn't finished with her massage yet. Her fingers knead tight knots along his shoulder blades and she dances them up and down his nape. "Penny for your thoughts."

Jaskier bites his lips and stays silent. How can he tell her, _Yennefer_ , that he's _bored_.

"I'm hungry," he lies.

She scoffs. "You just ate. A lot."

_Bad lie._

"Um. I'm tired?"

"Are you asking me?" she laughs, tugging a bit of his hair. "Tell the truth. You're a terrible liar."

Jaskier sighs, because it's true, and his shoulders drop. "I'm... bored. Please don't hate me! It's just.. I travelled so much, with.. him. And even when we were apart. And I love being here with you and I love all of the things we do and I love.. you. But.." he trails off. She stops moving her fingers in circles on his skin and he expects her to shout or cry or storm away.

She sits beside him, instead. She looks him in the eye for a moment. "Me too."

Jaskier tilts his head and his eyes narrow as he considers the truthfulness of this. To be fair, she was a mage -a powerful one at that. Seeing the same boring clients for the same boring ailments day in and day out. Eating at the same pubs, sleeping in the same bed. Maybe she _was_ really bored, too. _Of him?_

"So... what then?" he asks, carefully.

She purses her lips. "Let's go somewhere new. Let's hit the road. I've heard whispers that a person offering services such as mine is required in Skellige - let's go there."

Jaskier's silent, mostly because he can't believe she's actually agreeing with him and not yelling at him. "You want to leave... here... _with_ me?"

Yennefer puts her hand on his arm. "I wouldn't go without you."

-

It takes them a week or two to organise and prepare, but finally the morning comes where they both dress in their warm, practical travelling clothes, with sturdy walking boots and light packs, and say goodbye to the old-abandoned-shack-turned-cosy-house that they've shared together for months. Yennefer casts a collection of illusion spells that make it appear once more like that broken, dirty house, in the hopes that nobody will think twice about it in their absence. But if somebody does come along, and claim it or destroy it, she really couldn't care less. It was her house, but her home was by her side.

Saying goodbye to his garden.

"Come on," she huffs, impatiently.

"Wait!" he replies, kneeling down in front of the flowers and seedlings. He whispers to them and runs soft fingers across petals and she rolls her eyes.

"Come on. It's winter now, the sun sets early and we're losing time."

"Yeah yeah yeah," he mutters, standing from the garden and pulling his pack over his shoulder. He stares at it for a moment and then turns to her and nods. "Let's go."

\- 

The first night, rain falls from the sky like a vicious waterfall, crashing down around them and soaking absolutely everything.

Jaskier thinks how convenient it is to have a mage around, who can shelter them in a warm tent that is much bigger inside than it looks.

"Well, what a fantastic day to trek across the Continent," he moans, kicking his wet boots off at the entrance to the tent and shaking his hair out.

"Count yourself lucky, bard," she says, _and when was the last time she called him that?_ She ignites candles around the tent with simply a thought. "I'll keep you warm."

-

Thankfully, the weather clears and they spend the next day or two walking in sunshine. Cold sunshine, but sunshine nonetheless. Yennefer is mostly quiet, listening to Jaskier sing improvised lyrics or spout random facts about plants they pass, or ruins they see, or anything, really. 

"You know, I could just portal us to Skellige," Yennefer says one afternoon after listening to Jaskier talk for about four hours straight.

He stops in his tracks and spins on his heels. "Where's the adventure in that?"

"Might save my sanity," she mutters, trudging on behind him. "You know, we're going to need to board a ship eventually. Which is going to cost a bit of coin."

"I know," Jaskier waves his hand at her, dismissively. "We'll deal with that when we get to it."

"We could always ride across Velen," she calls out as he keeps bouncing ahead, too much spring in his step for her liking.

"Velen?" he cries. "You mean monster-land? No, thank you."

"I'd protect you," she grins, quickening her pace behind him. "Or you could just _sing_ them away. That would be effective."

He turns around to give her an incredulous look. "That was mean."

She smirks - and maybe it's the friction of her trousers against her thighs from walking hours on end, or the way that even in the cool air, Jaskier's damp hair hangs in his eye and sweat beads roll down his throat- and she crashes her body into his, knocking him off balance and he just manages to catch her by the waist and keep them both upright.

She winds one hand into his hair and palms the other over the front of his pants. She kisses him hungrily and he's almost out of breath when she pulls away. She stares him down with a filthy look and his eyes dart side to side.

"What, here?" he asks, surprised, as if there's anyone else around for miles but them.

She nods and drags them both to the ground, dust kicking up around them as she pulls both their trousers down just enough to straddle his lap and fill herself with him. It's almost too much all at once for Jaskier, but she sighs like it's sweet relief and rides him into the ground until they both come and collapse into each other.

-

"I think there's a rock in my arse," Jaskier whines, rubbing his backside as they walk.

Yennefer smiles smugly and smooths her hair down. "Quit complaining."

"I'm not complaining.. I'm merely stating," he retorts, top button of his trousers still unfastened, shirt only half tucked in. She bites her lip.

"Just be grateful you get to fuck your travelling companion," she says with a sly smile, and Jaskier visibly winces, turning his head away from her.

_Oh, that's a sore spot._

"Your beautiful mage lover," she adds quickly, stepping to his side and bumping their arms together, but the damage is done.

Jaskier's head spins and he tries not to let it show, but he never was very good at hiding his feelings. He's silent for a few moments and then turns to her with a weak smile. "Sorry, I.. sorry." He shakes his head, silently chastising himself. "I shouldn't even care anymore," he adds quietly, cheeks turning pink.

Yennefer can't help but feel for him. After all this time, Jaskier's wounds are still healing. After all, he was right those many months ago, when he told her that _she_ chose to leave Geralt, and Geralt chose to leave _him_. She places her hand on his arm and he stops walking. They turn to each other and he reluctantly meets her gaze.

"I shouldn't have said that," she says gently, looking into his eyes with a softness reserved for the times when she knows Jaskier really needs it. "I wasn't thinking. It was just a joke. I'm sorry, Jaskier."

He nods. "It's fine," he clears his throat and stands up a little taller. "It's in the past. Besides," he says, smiling and looking down at her, "you _are_ my beautiful mage lover." He presses their foreheads together gently, noses touching, lips brushing against hers, and whispers, "and I _am_ glad I get to fuck you."

This time, it's Yennefer who blushes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really hard to find detailed information about travelling routes from place to place so I'm sorry if any of this is inaccurate. At this point they are just kind of moving through Novigrad, but I DO know that you need to either catch a boat from one of the Novigrad docks OR travel through monster-land Velen and then take a boat to get to Skellige, so there's that. I wonder which path they'll choose, hmm.


	13. a worthy travel companion

They decide to travel through Velen, towards the west coast with the hopes of taking a ship into Skellige.

It proves to be the wrong decision.

Not two days in, they're accosted by a bandit pack. 

"All your coin then," the leader growls, pointing a sword at the pair of them as his men surround. They leer and jeer and Jaskier does his best at not looking scared while holding a thin sword out at them, but he's pretty sure his face says it all.

"Cute," Yennefer smiles, and with a snarled upper lip. Her hand squeezes like holding an invisible handle, and with a twist of it, the men's necks break all at once and they fall to the dirt.

Jaskier catches his breath and sheaths his sword, staggering in a circle a little to survey the ring of dead men surrounding them. He shoots Yennefer a gaze. "I could've taken them!" he says, too confidently.

She climbs back atop her horse and looks down at him, smiling. "But why should you have to?"

-

A few days later, after the sun has set and they try to go just a _little bit further_ before setting up for the night, they're ambushed by pair of werewolves, in full wolf form, piercing eyes and snarling teeth, stalking around them in a synchronised dance.

"Yennefer?" Jaskier gulps, back pressed against hers as they match the werewolves movements. "Tell me you can get rid of these guys?"

Yennefer laughs. "Don't you want to take care of them?"

"Just kill them!" he replies, and she plants her feet to the floor, giving an almighty cry as ripples course through the earth like a quake and travel up through the werewolves bodies, ripping them apart.

Jaskier coughs and gags and covers his eyes. "Oh god, does it have to be so violent?"

"Thought you'd be used to this," she says, wiping the sweat from her brow and adjusting her shirt. "I thought you liked a little violence," she smirks and it only makes Jaskier splutter more.

-

A week or more passes since the exploding werewolf incident.

"Oh what the fuck is this thing now?" Jaskier cries as he's cornered by a deformed looking woman with huge spikes protuding from her spine and a tangled mess of seaweed atop her head, huge claws hanging from her hands.

They've been camping by the river and Yennefer _told_ Jaskier not to go down to the river, but _surprise surprise,_ Jaskier does it anyway.

She jumps in front of him and with outstretched hands, shoots flames from her palms at the water hag.

It screams and burns and dies on the ground in front of them.

Yennefer whips her head around and stares daggers at Jaskier. Jaskier's worried she might be able to make _actual daggers_ fly out of her eyes. She doesn't.

"I told you!" she shouts exasperated, throwing her hands up. "I told you not to go near any water alone. Don't you get where we are? We're in Velen. They don't call this place No Mans Land for nothing. Notice, there's not a lot of _men_ around here," she sighs, shaking her head. "Don't do that again."

Jaskier feels like a scolded child and he sulks back up the riverbed to camp.

-

It's not only monster fighting and bandit attacks.

They have sweet moments, too, the two of them perched on their horses side by side, idle chatter as they continue west.

"I'm just saying," Jaskier says, looking at her with a relaxed smile, "What if we _hadn't_ met in Novigrad? What if we never found each other after the mountain."

"Oh, I would have found you," she says, chuckling a little. "Or you would have found me. Not a chance in hell that the Gods above would let me escape _Jaskier_."

Jaskier makes a gasping face and puts his hand to his chest. "M'lady, do you mean to tell me you want to escape me?"

She grins and pulls her horse sideways ever so slightly, so they're riding right beside each other, legs knocking, and she leans over to him. "Never," she whispers, and kisses his cheek.

-

"It's... not very good," he turns his nose up at the soup in the pot on the fire in front of them.

Yennefer scowls. "I made it just as you told me, three carrots, five potatoes, four onions, one-"

"You put _four_ onions in this?!" Jaskier cries loudly and puts his bowl down in front of him, making a face. "No wonder it tastes like arse. _Four_ , Yennefer, what were you thinking?"

"That's what you said!" she replies, throwing a small rock at him. "Four onions, Yennefer, and one turnip."

"One _onion_ and four _turnips_ ," Jaskier replies, dodging the rock. "See, this is why I always cook."

They laugh until the fire burns out.

-

  
"Oh, you'll never be free of me," Yennefer says gently as she rubs her thumbs over the scars on Jaskier's wrists.

"And I don't mean to be," he says against her lips.

-

"Keep me warm," she asks one night. Jaskier's laying on his back, she on her side pressed in against him, one firm hand of his wrapped tight around her waist.

"Always," he murmurs, pulling his fingers through her hair.

"Why don't we stay here, a while?" she asks, lifting her chin to look up at him.

"It's too dangerous, Yennefer," Jaskier says in a moment of rare rationality. "As much as I would _love_ to lay on this bedroll with your limbs all wrapped around me," he grins, looking down at her, hand wrapping even tighter around her waist and fingers squeezing her hip playfully, "I feel we risk too much by staying in one place. We should keep moving."

She nods and rests her head on his chest. "Sometimes you say smart things."

Jaskier laughs. "Sometimes?"

"Yeah. Sometimes you say utterly stupid things."

Jaskier laughs again and sighs. "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," she mutters, lifting her head and turning to look at him.

"And what if I said... oh Yennefer of Vengerberg," he begins, raising his hand in the air and waving it about, "you are without a doubt the most lovely woman, no, most terrifying woman, no... most _everything_ woman I've ever crossed paths with, and if you'd have me, I will follow you until the end of my days. Smart, or stupid?"

She grins and presses her lips to his. "Smart," she murmurs, and kisses him.

Jaskier kisses her back, but thinks about the time he said that to somebody else, and how it didn't work out so well.

\- 

Yennefer still really likes.. commandeering Jaskier.

She's gotten better with controlling her chaos, and only _sometimes_ causes destruction during their intimate times.

But she's always wanted control of power, and Jaskier gives it over so sweetly.

He doesn't even think twice when she pulls his arms behind his back, wraps the belt of her trousers around his wrists. And even though she's the one with his cock in her mouth, she still owns this. And it's beautiful, really, the way he just stands there and looks down at her with a little gasp on his mouth and eyes almost closed. She digs her nails into his hips and thighs as she twists her tongue around him. And when she undresses herself, crawling to her hands and knees and telling Jaskier to fuck her, his wrists still bound behind his back, he comes embarrassingly quickly. She grins through it all.

And for a few more weeks, they fight and fuck their way across Velen and when they reach the dock, they sell their horses, and board a ship.

-

"To Skellige, and new adventures," Yennefer toasts him with a glass of red wine.

"To you," Jaskier says in a low voice, smiling that wicked sweet smile of his that makes her chest feel full, and he pulls her in close.

"To us." She kisses him.

-

-

-

"Geralt?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i don't think there's any docks in west velen but this is not real life, so just roll with it


	14. it's not fair how much i love you

_Oh.... fuck._

"Geralt?"

Jaskier recognises it as Yennefer's voice, somehow, beneath the whirlpooling thoughts in his head, closing darkness in around him like a tunnel, eating him alive.

"Yennefer? Jaskier." Geralt's voice is as rough and low and thick as ever.

Jaskier runs.

-

Because he's on a ship, he can't run very far.

-

"Jaskier?" 

His head is buried in his hands and he'd hiding at the front of the ship behind some barrels and coils of rope, sunk into the deck, wishing it would just splinter and swallow him whole.

"That was embarrassing, wasn't it?" he groans, lifting his head just enough to peer at her with one eye.

"Are you okay?" Yennefer asks softly.

" _Okay_?" Jaskier laughs, but it sounds nervous, and empty. "Oh, I'm fine. Perfectly fine. Just unexpectedly faced with the man who broke my heart and now coming to the realisation that the woman I love is going to see what a stupid mistake she's made and go running back to him."

"Who's the woman you love?" she asks playfully, and Jaskier shoots her a filthy look.

"I'm sorry," she says, putting her hand on his leg, just above his knee.

He looks at it, and then at her, and grabs her face and kisses her hard. He's too rough, hands on her cheeks and biting her mouth and pulling himself close in against her body, as if he got close enough, they would merge into one.

"Jaskier," she says, out of breath, pulling her head away. She places her hands over his, moving them. "What are you doing?"

"It'll be harder for you to leave if I'm holding on to you," he says honestly, blue eyes looking down, darting around nervously.

She shakes her head. "Why would I leave?"

"You're kidding." Jaskier scoffs, squinting at her. "Look at _me_ ," he gestures up and down his body with his hands, "and look at _that_ ," he says, pointing in the direction they saw Geralt. "I know who I'd choose."

Yennefer sighs and puts a finger beneath his chin, turning his head to look at her. "I choose you," she says, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. "You think I'd take one look at Geralt and leave you, forget everything we have? Jaskier... you must think more of me than that."

Jaskier blushes. "I do, I just... what if you always wanted him. You just didn't know it. And now he's _here?_ " 

"But you've been here all along," she whispers, and wraps her arms around his neck. "Don't want him," she murmurs, pressing her forehead against his. "Want you." She kisses him deep, claiming, wanting. Winding her fingers through his hair and digging into his shoulders, back, waist.

"Come on, let's go downstairs," she says as she kisses him, voice a little desperate and shaky, leading him by the hand.

_Cause it'll be harder for him to leave if I'm holding on to him._

It was an old ship, splintering wood and creaking stairs, but there were a few small cabins below deck, with hard hay mattresses and lanterns casting a soft orange glow. Small windows allowed moonlight to spill in from outside, and it lit up Jaskier's skin as she pulled off his layers, tracing patterns on his chest with her finger as they kissed. She made sure she touched every part of him, pouring herself into every little crevice of his skin.

And Jaskier moaned along happily, mouth moving back against hers, fingers creeping around her waist and holding her hips in close to his.

It was simple, really. Jaskier wanted love, and in return, he loved. If she could light up the stars in his eyes, sink her claws in deep enough, he would stay. He would come back to her, again and again, _her_ not him, again and again, for _this_. For Yennefer to absolutely worship him. Ruin him. Wrap her mouth around his cock, wrap her hands around his throat, tug on his hair and moan against his skin and slide her cunt down onto him and make him sing.

Burn fresh new finger marks into his skin.

-

"Fuck," she says through gritted teeth, holding Jaskier's arms out. " _Fuck._ I'm sorry."

"Don't be," he says, breath a little sharp. "I told you, I like them."

"But your old ones just healed," she says, angry at herself.

"I don't care," he almost laughs, shaking his head and catching her eyes with his. "I'm yours."

"Are you?" she spits, before she can stop herself.

His eyebrows furrow and he cocks his head. "What do you mean, _am I_?" 

"I just mean... he's.. here."

"And?" Jaskiers says, chewing his lip. "Means nothing."

The way he says it doesn't convince her. She looks at him for a moment and looks away. "Okay."

"You don't believe me," he says. He stares down at the marks on his wrists, overlapping the old ones.

"I believe you.'

"Mmm," Jaskier makes a disbelieving sound and pulls his shirt back over his head. "I don't love him anymore, you know."

_Well, not that much._

\- 

She couldn't leave him. He couldn't have her leave him. He would fucking _die._

How many bloody people did he have to love before one of them just fucking _stayed_.

It's late, moon shining down on him as he sits on the deck of the starboard bow, picking at the hem of his shirt and listening to the calm sound of waves collapsing into each other. He'd creeped as quietly as possible from the creaky wooden bed and slipped out of the cabin, leaving Yennefer asleep below deck. God, she looked so beautiful when she slept.

They were always on borrowed time, he thought. Yennefer just waiting it out with Jaskier, because what was a few years to a mage who could live forever? What was a year, or two years, or five years, _or ten years_ , slumming it with Jaskier, waiting for Geralt to return? It didn't matter to her - she'd still be alive when he finally came back. Better to be with someone than alone. But Jaskier.. Jaskier didn't have the luxury of immortality. He was with her because he wanted to spend whatever part of his fleeting life he could with her.

_Fucking Geralt._

He looks at his wrists, wincing when he twists them and his shirt sleeves rub against them. He smiles. He knew what these were. A parting gift, a goodbye. A reminder. _We had fun, but that's all it was._ He shrugs his sleeves down, hiding them. 

He stares up at the stars and laughs, but the tears down his cheeks are not from joy.


	15. remember me?

She hears the footsteps approach from behind and she knows, by those alone.

"Geralt," she says, curtly, not turning to look at him. She stays standing tall and proud at the back of the boat, eyes fixed on the morning sunlight reflecting off the calm blue sea, gentle waves lapping at the sides of the ship.

"Yen."

Silence.

_Painful silence._

"Skellige?" he asks, and she'd almost forgotten how low his voice could be. How raw.

"Mmm," she hums in reply, brushing her fingers through her hair, watching a seabird soar gracefully in the distance. "And you?"

"Skellige," he says, clearing his throat. "Jaskier?"

She sighs and turns slowly to face him. Her dark curls hang loose and wind-tangled around her cheeks. "Is that a problem?"

Geralt frowns. "No, I-"

"We were both in Novigrad, for a while," she adds, forgetting the ' _living together and sleeping together_ ' part. "We're-"

"Friends?"

Yennefer narrows her eyes. "What are you doing here, Geralt?"

"I've been requested by the King.. a werewolf pack runs wild through the forest, terrorising the villagers nearby. He's hired my services."

"Plenty of bandits in Skellige too, I assume. That should keep you busy."

"I don't kill humans," Geralt reminds her, folding his arms across his chest. "And what are _you_ doing in Skellige?"

"Work," she says, dismissive tone of voice. "Novigrad got.. boring."

"And Jaskier?"

She looks at him purposefully, eyes burning into his, little smirk on her lips. "Not boring," she says, and pushes past him.

-

"I saved you some extra bread," Jaskier calls as he hears the footsteps pad down the stairs, scribbling away in his notebook with his tongue bitten between his teeth. "And by saved, I may mean 'slipped into my shirt while nobody else was looking'."

The footsteps stop behind him, and he furiously scratches the few last words into the paper. "I wasn't sure if you'd still be hungry, you didn't eat much." He gives himself a satisfied little nod and drops the pencil, turning in the chair to look behind him. "If you don't want it, I'll-"

 _Fuck_.

"Oh. You're not her."

Geralt raises his eyebrows at him and he blushes, uncomfortably hot. 

"No," he drawls, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He eyes it suspiciously as he sits on it, clasping his hands onto his knees and staring holes through Jaskier.

"Uh...." Jaskier looks around nervously, turning back to quickly snap his notebook shut. He looks back at Geralt. "Can I help you?"

"Is that what you really want to say?"

Jaskier swallows. "Um. Yes?"

"It's good to see you, Jaskier," and the way Geralt says his name has his heart jumping _just a little._

"Well, I wish I could say the same about you," he says all too quickly, eyes widening in horror as he realises he's actually just said that out loud.

Geralt nods and looks to the small window letting light spill in from outside. "I probably deserve that."

Jaskier, feeling a little more confident, straightens his back. "You do," he says with a huff.

Geralt snaps his head back to look at him and Jaskier's posture drops beneath his gaze. Like if he tried hard enough, he could fold in on himself and disappear altogether. He doesn't.

"I'm surprised to see you here," Geralt says, and lets his head fall to the side, just a little. He frowns. "With Yennefer, of all people."

Jaskier blushes again. _Stop blushing, you idiot._

"And I'm surprised to see _you_ here," he replies, skirting around the obvious _Yennefer_ issue.

"You found her in Novigrad?" Geralt asks, pressing the matter.

"She found - we found each other."

"And she somehow suckered you in to accompanying her to Skellige," he scoffs. "Typical. What's she paying you?"

Jaskier can't stop the look of anger that creeps across his face. "She's not paying me _anything_. We're.."

" _Friends_?" Geralt finishes, giving him a look as if to say _you're not her friend, she has no friends, she takes what she needs from people and discards them._

_Jaskier might say a similar thing about Geralt, if he could hear the thought._

"Oh. So you spoke to her already," Jaskier questions, a nervous little crack in his voice. "What'd she tell you?"

Geralt makes a point of holding his gaze on Jaskier's mouth before looking him dead in the eye with a scowl. "Not much."

Jaskier nods, and this is all becoming extremely uncomfortable, and his heart is starting to beat faster and his thoughts are rushing, head is pounding.

_You know Geralt can smell it on your sheets._

_Oh god._

"I think you should go."

Yennefer's voice startles him from his panic and he looks up at her, standing in the doorway like a fucking _Goddess_ who's just come to save him from perdition. 

Suddenly, the room feels very tiny with the three of them in it.

"Yen-"

"Geralt."

They stare at each other, and Jaskier feels like a mouse caught between two _terrifying_ cats.

Geralt hums and stands, giving Jaskier a nod. He takes a few steps and stops beside Yennefer, dropping his head against her cheek. He makes a point to inhale through his nose, loud enough that even Jaskier hears, and mutters, "lilac, gooseberries, and _something else_."

-

"Don't you want to talk about-"

"No," Yennefer pants, tugging at his clothes and wrapping herself around him.

"We should probably talk-"

"Jaskier, _shut up_."

He obeys.

She all but tears his clothes off and he's torn between extreme arousal and extreme anxiety. It's a difficult mix, because his body's working almost on instinct, burying his fingers inside of her as she sits in his lap, but even the low moans against his hear can't quiet the absolute screaming in his head. Because Geralt is here. He never though he'd ~~get~~ have to see him again, and he's here, on a fucking _ship_ with them, and Jaskier can't escape him.

He snaps out of it when she bites his earlobe. "Ow!"

"Where are your thoughts?" she murmurs, but she doesn't stop moving. She uses her hand to help guide his cock into her and he groans as she does, feeling her sink down onto him. He's sitting on the bed, back pushed into the wall, legs bent just a little with a lapful of her. Their chests press in tight against each other and Jaskier can almost feel her heartbeat alongside his.

He snakes his hands through her hair and grabs fistfuls of them. "Here," he says quietly, kissing her hard, fucking up into her.

They pant against each other and she flicks her hair around, head tipped back a little as she bounces on top of him. He holds her by the waist and she grinds her hips into him, and it makes him curse, burying his face into her throat.

"You know, he can probably hear us," she says in a sly voice.

Jaskier wants to be mad at her for wanting to talk about him _now_ , but he can't, because he'll be damned if it's not one of the hottest things he's ever heard. She feels the way his hips jerk and she grins, letting her head rest against his, lips pressed into his hair.

"He can probably _smell_ it," she teases and he groans, fucking her harder harder _harder._ "Wait till he sees your wrists," and she can barely get the words out as he thrusts up into her with force, his hands digging in to her, grasping at her body like it's the only thing anchoring him to this realm.

He bites, somehow gently, at her collar as he comes, and she comes too, rolling her hips and pushing down into him. She rides him slowly as they both come back to earth, Jaskier gasping against her skin, fingertips softening from digging claws and lightly brushing over her back. He kisses her and lets his head fall back against the wall, out of breath.

"Please don't leave me," he whispers, and looks her in the eye. His voice is calm but his eyes plead, beg, with her, _please don't fucking leave me for him._

Yennefer loved how honest he could be in these vulnerable moments. Spilling all parts of him into her, honest, true and real. 

"Why would I leave you?" she says, kissing his forehead. He's still buried inside of her and it's intimate, soft, sweet.

He takes his hands from her hips and holds them out in the gap between them, palms up, the red marks glaring up at her. "I thought these were goodbye."

She shakes her head. "How could I say goodbye to you?" she says gently, taking his hands in his, thumbs lightly passing over the marks. "Think of them as.. a declaration."

"A declaration?"

"Mhm," Yennefer smiles a sleepy smile, her fingers winding into his. "Of love."

Jaskier's heart pounds under his skin. He looks at her and licks his lips, cheeky smirk lighting up his face. "Love, huh?"

She nods, and with her hands woven into his, she guides them back and holds them against the wall. She kisses him, soft, deep, passionate, and it speaks a thousand words into his heart.

"Mmm," he hums lazily, gentle smile on his lips, eyes closed. Totally relaxed and submissive to her in this moment. "And what if he sees?"

He opens his eyes and studies her face, which turns from a gentle smile to a smirking, dark eyed, feral grin. She pushes her chest into his and kisses him again, so hard he can barely keep up in his tired state. She bites at his lower lip gently as she pulls away and looks into his eyes.

"Let him see."

-

Geralt rolls, restless in his bed, and _seethes._


	16. unwoven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: non explicit mention of substance abuse

He's not sure why all of his muscles feel tight and hot, his chest feeling bound to burst and his jaw clenched so hard he feels it almost splintering the bone up to his temple.

Or maybe he _does_ know.

Because he can smell them.

He could smell it in their room. And he could smell it on _her_.

That smell that he grew so used to, warm cinnamon and sandalwood and earth. The smell of clean soaped hair and rosemary water. Him.

And because he can hear them. Even through the dozen thick wooden walls that separate his room at one end of the lower deck and theirs, _theirs_ , at the other.

He'd tried to tell himself that they were just working together. Tried to convince himself that she was just using him, for something, or maybe him using her. It wasn't above either of them to use another to get what they wanted, Geralt knew that well enough, but each other? 

And no matter how hard he tried to lie to himself, he knew that wasn't why they were together.

Because he can hear them.

He can hear Jaskier groan, and he can hear Yennefer giggle.

And he tries to pretend he doesn't hear the word _love_.

-

It takes Jaskier another day or two, before he plucks up the courage to approach Geralt when he sees him sitting, alone, in the light of lanterns littered around the ship's edge. He decides he might as well - it would take them at least a week, if not more, to reach Skellige.

"Hi," he says, as he sits down on the wooden bench beside Geralt. "Can't sleep?"

"I don't really need to," Geralt replies, looking sideways at Jaskier before turning his body towards him. "Although you know that."

Jaskier nods and looks at the dark night sky above, stars shining down brightly upon them. He can almost hear them hum. "How's your room?"

"Cold," Geralt says, "Much like yours, I imagine."

Jaskier nods again. His voice feels caught in his throat and he has no idea how to keep this conversation going. His heart is pounding just sitting beside Geralt, pretending that this whole _fucked up situation_ is fine. 

He settles for, "Where's Roach?" 

"I left her behind, in capable hands," Geralt replies and gives Jaskier a contemplative look. "She misses you," he says, after a few moments of quiet.

Jaskier looks back at him, pressing his lips together just to stop them from trembling. "That's not fair."

They stare at one another for a moment before Jaskier drops his eyes to the floor and mumbles, "I miss her too."

"Fuck, Jaskier," Geralt says, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and forefinger, scrunching his face up. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left. I thought it was the best thing for-"

Jaskier laughs. "For who? Me? Or you?"

"You, Jaskier. I - I couldn't be who you wanted me to be."

Jaskier scoffs and stands. "You _were_ who I wanted you to be," his eyes narrowing, "and you fucking abandoned me."

Geralt watches him walk away and sighs.

-

"He'll come round."

Geralt turns and finds Yennefer standing by his side.

She's wrapped in a thick, warm fur coat, and even then, still rubbing her shoulders with her hands in attempt to fight the crisp night air. She looks out at the horizon. It's past midnight now, a few hours since Jaskier had disappeared downstairs and failed to resurface.

Geralt makes a disbelieving sound and shakes his head. "I tried to apologise."

"He's hurting," Yennefer says. She turns to look at him, hair dancing in the wind around her cheeks. "He loved you."

"And now," Geralt says, in that low, gravelly voice, "he loves you."

Yennefer gives him a firm look. "You didn't see him, after you left. When I found him... he was a wreck."

Geralt shifts uncomfortably and looks away. "It was for the best."

"For the best? He was _numb_. I ran into him all over Novigrad. He was self destructing, Geralt. He was falling apart. He was always fucked up on _something_ , sleep deprived, or hungover. Or all three. He spent most nights at Passiflora, if they didn't kick him out. You don't know... he would probably be dead if I hadn't been there."

"So you were his savior?"

Yennefer looks at him, her eyes narrowing. "You don't know the pieces of him I've had to put back together."

"I never meant for any of that," Geralt says, sounding frustrated. "I didn't want him to follow me and get _hurt_. I didn't want him to love me. I'm not for love. I don't _get_ to love. When I do, it ends badly. I was trying to protect him."

Yennefer bites her tongue. Maybe a little of that was on her.

"Just give him time," she says, gently, putting her hand on Geralt's arm. "I know he still cares for you."

"Like you care for him?" Geralt asks, looking back at her.

She pauses. "Yes."

"How did this happen, Yen?" he asks, brushing his hand through his hair. "You two used to despise each other."

Yennefer sighs. "And then.. we didn't."

"You know he can't give you want you want, right?" he asks, but it's soft, and as he says it, he realises that _isn't_ want Yennefer is searching for anymore.

She turns back to him, and smiles. " _He_ is what I want."


	17. i'm too weak to give you up

"Please, I don't want to talk about it," Jaskier says as Yennefer closes the heavy wooden door of their cabin. It's freezing, and he's sitting on the bed with the blankets pulled all around him, resting back against the wall and watching the misty cloud of breath he exhales disappear into the air.

"He's trying-"

"I said I don't want to talk about it," Jaskier says, angrily, shooting her a foul look. "Just leave it alone."

"Jaskier," she says gently, sitting beside him and reaching out to him. "You can't be angry forever."

"Yes I can," he huffs, wrapping the blankets in tighter around himself.

"And what good will it do?" she asks, touching his leg.

He stares at her hand and he feels the rage inside him instead release in a huge sigh, and he hangs his head against his chest. "Why does it still hurt?"

Yennefer gives him a sad look and crawls beside him, leaning against his arm. "Because you loved him."

"But I don't love him anymore," he says, resting his head against hers. "I love you."

"Mmmm, I know," she hums, wrapping her arms around him. "It's hard to forget," she says quietly, pressing into his side, "when the people we give so much power to are the ones who end up hurting us."

Jaskier sniffs. "Are you ever afraid I'd hurt you?"

Yennefer twists her neck to look up at him. "Sometimes."

"You know I never would, right?" he says, kissing her cheek. "You're breathtaking."

Yennefer blushes and looks away, pulling her coat around her and sighing. "You know.. if he never hurt you, we would never have ended up here."

Jaskier nods, his chest rising and falling as he inhales a shaky breath. "You're right."

"Don't sound so surprised," she grins, bumping him with her shoulder.

He laughs and looks down at her, pressing his lips to her hair in a soft kiss. She turns back to look up at him, their eyes finding stillness in one another's.

Jaskier unwraps the blankets from his body and pounces, pulling her down on the bed beside him. "Come here," he smiles, and winds his fingers through her hair.

-

Morning comes and brings with it a yellow lights that spills through the glass window of their cabin, rousing Jaskier from his sleep. He's on his side, with Yennefer curled up in his arms, her head tucked in beneath his, legs curled up against his, and she seems so small and unguarded, like this. 

He smiles and slowly untangles himself from her, and kisses her sweetly. She stirs and rolls to her back, making quiet sounds. Her eyeliner is slightly smudged beneath her lower lashes and her hair is tangled around her face and stuck to her cheek. Jaskier thinks she looks beautiful.

"Morning," he murmurs, kissing her again. She kisses back lazily, eyes still closed, the yellow sunlight lighting up her skin. Jaskier smiles a sinister smile and crawls backwards down the bed, lifting her slept in dress up as he does and kissing at her belly. She wriggles at the tickling touch of his lips and makes a sound, and he slips his fingers into her underwear and drags them down her thighs.

"Ssh," he coos as she stirs, tracing his fingers across her thighs. "You don't have to do anything." He settles on his stomach and pushes her thighs apart slowly, mouthing a line of kisses along her inner thigh and coming to rest on her cunt, sucking gently at her clit. She groans and her hip twitches ever so slightly, and Jaskier smiles against her, licking at her, slow and lazy. 

He's got two fingers slipped inside her, his thumb pressing against her clit alongside his tongue, when a loud _thud_ at the door has them both jumping in surprise.

" _Jaskier?"_

Geralt's deep voice sounds muffled from the other side of the door, and Jaskier looks at Yennefer incredulously. 

"What the _fuck_ does he want," he says under his breath, and she shakes her head and shrugs.

"Um, what?" Jaskier calls, and gives her a sly look before he puts his lips back against her cunt, kissing her there, his fingers still inside her. 

"Can I talk to you?"

Jaskier's not sure what takes over him, but he quickly sits up on his knees, keeping his fingers crooked up and rubbing inside her, covering her mouth with his other hand. He grins down at her and calls back to the door, "About what?"

Yennefer's eyes flutter and he feels her mouth part against his hand.

"Last night, just - can you come out here?"

"Uh, sure," he replies, but he's looking at her, watching her chest rise and fall rapidly, her eyes squeeze shut. "I'll be out in a minute, I'll see you upstairs," he says, and he feels Yennefer contract around his fingers, her thighs snapping shut around his arm as she comes, a quiet, muffled moan slipping past his fingers.

Footsteps walk away from the door and disappear into the hallway and Jaskier slides his hand from Yennefer's mouth, and the other from between her legs.

She pants, looking up at him. "What the hell, Jaskier?"

"What?" he smiles smugly. "Oh come on, that was exciting, right? He was _right there._ He must have known-"

"I'm not a pawn in your game, Jaskier," she says angrily, pulling her underwear back up.

"No, no, god - that's not what I meant at all," he says touching her shoulder as she sits up.

"You don't just get to claim ownership over me like that," she folds her arms, frowning at him.

"Oh, that's rich," he laughs, holding up his hands and waving them at her. "What are these then?" 

The burn marks are still healing, fresh scars wrapped around his skin. Yennefer's lip twitches and she looks away from him. "I couldn't help that."

Jaskier rolls his eyes. "Maybe not the first time. But you meant it the second. Come on, please don't be mad. I thought you'd like it," he says, and she can hear it in his voice, the honesty and earnest. 

She sighs and huffs in annoyance but she can't hide the small smirk in the corner of her mouth. "Maybe it was a _little_ exciting. But you shouldn't antagonise him like that. He's _trying,_ Jaskier."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Jaskier says dismissively, standing and fixing his clothes. "I'll be back soon," he says, eyes trailing up her legs and resting on her mouth. He licks his lips and says, "Don't go anywhere."

-

"Sorry," Jaskier says, approaching Geralt at the side of the ship from behind, stepping cautiously towards him. "I was.. having breakfast."

Geralt frowns and rolls his eyes before he turns around to look at Jaskier. "It's fine. I shouldn't have disturbed you."

They stare at one another awkwardly, for a moment. 

"You wanted to talk to me?" Jaskier breaks the silence, running a hand through his hair.

"Yes. Last night. I want to apologise, Jaskier, properly. I'm sorry. I fucked up."

Jaskier folds his arms across his chest.

Geralt exhales. "It's not fair for me to say I did it to protect you. I realise that what I did only.. hurt you more. Yennefer told me."

Jaskier looks to the side and then back at him, tilting his head. He can't help it, the angry hiss his voice comes out as. "Yes, I was all sorts of fucked up, Geralt. Thanks for reminding me. Where exactly do you expect us to go, from here?"

"I don't... that's up to you. I just want you to know I'm sorry. I am. You.. needed me so much," Geralt looks uncomfortable, his eyes moving between Jaskier and the floor. "I'm not used to that. I didn't know how to handle it. I didn't know how to handle what I felt, for you."

Jaskier nods and scoffs. "Imagine where we might be, if you did?"

"You wouldn't have Yennefer," Geralt interjects.

"I might have had both of you," Jaskier replies quickly, closing his eyes and he shakes his head. "It doesn't matter anymore. I've spent _so_ long being angry at you, for leaving me." He looks Geralt in the eye. "I love you," he sighs, putting his arms in the air in defeat. "I _loved_ you. Not anymore."

"We were friends, once," Geralt says.

Jaskier laughs weakly and wipes his hand down his face. He looks at Geralt with a smile. "We'll always be friends, Geralt."


End file.
